


Two Lost Souls

by headoverhook



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:29:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3525902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headoverhook/pseuds/headoverhook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an undercover assignment ends badly Detective Killian Jones is transferred to the Homicide Division of the 15th Precinct. It is supposed to be a fresh start, but when he meets his new boss Captain Emma Swan, he discovers that he has already met her before. Under very different circumstances. Police AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**A very good friend over on Tumblr gave me the idea for this story, and my muse decided we can't keep this only a one-shot. :-)**

**Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, just this story!**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

He pressed his left hand flat on the sink, waiting for the muscle cramps to subside. The cramps were the only hindrance left behind after he'd been shot five months ago.

The doctors had told him that a guardian angel must have watched over him, since the bullet had only missed his heart by inches. It had been a small miracle that he'd survived the major blood loss, and he'd spent the last four months in rehab to get the function of his left arm back. Besides some muscle cramps in the morning he had his full strength back, and had gotten the all clear to return to duty last week.

Lifting his head slowly, he looked at his reflection. He still had a hard time to adjust to his old self again - being undercover for over eight months tended to do that to you. Especially since his cover Roger Hudson had been a far cry away from his usual polished self. His well-trimmed scruff had been a full blown out beard, his hair had reached his shoulders and the suits had been exchanged by a full leather outfit from head to toe, with sparkling earring and skull necklace.

His fingers reached for the necklace sitting on the sink beside him, his hand clenching around it until the charms dug painfully into his palm.

Of course he'd heard the stories - the stories about the cops who went rogue, who lost themselves in their undercover work and changed sides. He just never thought it would happen to him.

But after months undercover the lines between reality and cover had started to blur. All because he'd lost his cool head, and started to develop feelings for the wife of his target. At first he'd fought it, but weeks had passed by, and one night she'd seduced him.

After Liam's death he'd closed of his heart, never wanting to feel that devastated, that lost, ever again. It had been a long and painful death, draining the life out of him alongside his brother, and when Liam had taken his last breath something inside of Killian had died too.

But then he'd met Milah, and he'd fallen in love despite knowing he should have stayed away from her. Brushing his fingers over the scar on his chest, he closed his eyes as the memories started to rush back to the surface again.

Gold coming home early, finding him and Milah in bed together. The cold expression on the man's face was something he would never forget, the hatred blazing out of Gold's eyes when he'd drawn the gun, and first fired at Milah and then at Killian.

Milah didn't make it, and Gold disappeared. But Killian survived. And now he had to live with the knowledge that he killed Milah for the rest of his life.

His fingers were trembling around the necklace, and he opened his eyes, staring back at his reflection, just feeling bone tired. But it was his first day at the new job today, and he needed to get a grip and his ass moving.

His old boss had suggested he should change divisions, that it would be better when he left narcotics behind. At least for a little while. Killian didn't know if it would change anything, if it would help ease the emptiness in his chest. But he had to try.

So he had agreed to help out the Homicide Division of the 15th for a few months. The former head detective had died in a car accident, and needed to be replaced immediately. Killian had worked homicide for a few years back when he'd come out of the academy, and was qualified for the job.

Letting out a deep breath, he straightened, realizing that he was still holding the necklace in his hand. Out of an impulse he didn't understand he slipped it over his head, closing his shirt over it before he shrugged into the vest and put on his tie. One last look into the mirror told him he was ready to go, and he walked out of the bathroom quickly, hoping he could leave the memories of the last year behind eventually.

He reached the precinct half an hour later, and announced himself at the front desk, waiting patiently until someone came down. The officer who stepped towards him a few minutes later introduced himself as Detective Locksley, telling him he would be working under him, naming the rest of the team as he lead him upstairs to the captain's office.

Killian stopped briefly before the captain's door, collecting himself before he knocked and entered after hearing the soft 'come in' from inside.

"Captain Swan? I'm Detective Jones. Reporting to ..." The words got stuck in his throat as she turned around to face him, the sight punching all the air out of his lungs.

_Bloody hell!_

The woman in front of him wasn't only his new boss. She was also the woman with whom he'd had a one-night stand five years ago, a few months before his life had spiraled out of control.

And it hadn't been only a random one-night stand. It had been the most damn mind-blowing sex of his whole life. Liquid heat shot straight down to his groin as he stared at her dumbfounded, flashes of their night together - memories he thought he'd buried so deep that they would never come up again - springing to the forefront of his brain, and making sweat break out on his forehead.

_Bloody fucking hell!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow ... the response to the first chapter was overwhelming. Thank you all so much!**

**I just want to give you a warning here ... this story is going to be a little darker.**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

It had gotten easier over the last year to force herself out of bed in the morning, to will her body and mind to function, to go on with her life. The wound was still there, would always be there. She'd lost the person who meant the most to her, and nothing - not even time - could heal that.

Emma wouldn't have gotten through it without Graham standing by her side the whole way. He'd been her best friend since the academy, and after an awkward date a friend of them had set up, they'd realized that there wasn't any sexual tension between them, and decided to just be friends.

Graham was the shoulder she could cry on after Henry went missing, he was the one person that she allowed into the apartment after they'd found her son's body. He was the one who held her together when her whole world crumbled down around her. He was the one who looked at the autopsy report with her - she'd refused to accept the 'He didn't suffer' statement the police normally gave the parents - knowing too well that it was bullshit most of the times.

Graham was the one who stayed at her apartment the first eight weeks. He was there when she woke up screaming. He was the one who was her voice of reason when she was blaming everyone - she knew in a corner of her brain that it wasn't anyone's fault; the nanny had just looked away for a minute, and when she'd turned around again Henry was gone. But the pain and guilt had to go somewhere, so she almost went insane while searching for the killer, searching for the sadistic pedophile that'd abused and murdered her son.

But Graham wasn't here anymore. She'd lost him too. And every morning over the last three weeks she'd asked herself why she was even getting up, why she still kept on living. There wasn't a point. She'd lost everyone dear to her heart.

And she was tired. So tired.

It had been five years since she'd lost Henry, and there were no new leads. The case had gone cold, and no matter how often she looked at all the evidence, she didn't find even the slightest hint of who the perpetrator might have been.

Graham had been her only anchor; he kept her sane, kept her going. But he was gone forever, and she was hardly able to keep it together.

For a split second she wondered if she should just stay home and drown herself in alcohol. If she should just let herself break. But then she remembered that the new detective would start today, and she stiffened her spine.

She was still a detective at heart, and maybe burying herself in work was the only way to survive.

-/-

Emma hoped the make-up she'd put on this morning would conceal the dark shadows under her eyes. She'd opted for a navy blue business suit with a light blue blouse underneath. Her hair was pulled back in a chignon, and she'd decided to not wear contact lenses today but her glasses instead.

She needed to at least feel as if she presented a cool and professional demeanor. No one should see how ragged she was on the inside, how broken. She was the captain. She couldn't show any weakness.

Her eyes fell on the file lying on her desk, and she realized that she hadn't even taken one look at the application. She was short a detective, and no matter how badly the hole Graham left behind still hurt, she needed to fill his position. Sean, her former supervisor, had recommended Detective Jones, and even though she knew Jones' last undercover assignment ended badly, she was willing to give him a chance. Not that she had really any other option.

Sighing softly, she turned around and put the file on the cabinet behind her, startling slightly when she heard the knock at the door. Taking in a deep breath, she straightened and said over her shoulder, "Come in."

She righted the files in front of her, waiting for the new detective to enter, hearing his lilting voice behind her a few seconds later.

"Captain Swan? I'm Detective Jones. Reporting to ..."

She'd turned around to greet him, but the moment her eyes met his, a jolt of surprise and bafflement zapped through her body. She recognized him instantly, and judging by the expression on his face and the fact that he'd stopped mid-sentence, he probably also remembered her.

Her whole body reacted to him, her stomach clenched, her nipples tightened and an unwelcome picture popped into her mind - he was towering over her, his eyes dark with lust, his hips snapping against hers, his voice a hoarse rasp as he fucked her into oblivion.

_Jesus Christ!_

She'd spent one night with him; one night filled with insanely hot sex that made her walk funny for three days after. Nonetheless she should have forgotten about him. It'd been five years. But maybe she remembered it so clearly because it had been the last time she'd been carefree. The last time she'd enjoyed herself.

Because six weeks later Henry had gone missing.

And now her one-night stand was standing in front of her, in flesh and blood. She didn't even know his full name back then, only his given name - Killian. Cursing inwardly, she scolded herself for not looking at his file beforehand. A little forewarning would have been of advantage.

But they were professionals here, and what happened in the past should stay in the past.

"Detective Jones," she said firmly, holding her hand out to shake his, ignoring the shiver that ran down her spine when his fingers closed around hers. "Nice to meet you."


	3. Chapter 3

**I wasn't sure if I would write about the one night they spent together, but my muse decided she wants to. So here you go. :-)**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

She'd managed to get him out of her office a few minutes later, telling Robin to show him around, and her hands were actually shaking as she closed the door behind him. She walked slowly towards her desk and reached for his file, flipping it open. Of course there was a photo clipped to the application form, and she balled her hands into fists as she stared down at it.

She knew she should read his file now, to learn everything about his undercover assignment. But she just wasn't up to it today. Just not today.

She didn't know how she got through the day. Seeing Killian had completely thrown her, and when she was finally home she slipped out of her shoes and went straight for the refrigerator, taking out a beer and walking to the couch to slump down on it.

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back, her fingers tightening around the bottle, sudden tears pricking the back of her eyes as the loss of her best friend slammed back into her.

How much she wished she could talk to Graham right now? He'd been the only one who knew about Killian, who knew what had happened only a few weeks after she had this one-night stand. He would have understood how rattled she felt right now.

But a drunk driver had taken him away from her three weeks ago. He died in a freaking car accident. She knew he always assumed to die on duty, to get gunned down by a criminal, so that his death would have a meaning. He'd told her one night when they'd both drunk too much that he wanted to go down in glory. But instead he'd died in his car.

Life wasn't fair. She knew that more than anyone. She lived through it; saw it every day in her line of work. Sometimes keeping it together was just too much of an effort. But she'd cried too much over the last three weeks, and she was too exhausted to even shed a tear now. Blinking her eyes open, she stared out of the window, wishing the pain would just go away.

But of course it didn't. It never did.

Instead she closed her eyes again, and willed her thoughts back to that night all those years ago. Maybe not a bright idea either – to bring the memories of their night together back to the forefront – but at least it would let her forget all the painful memories. At least for a few minutes.

-/-

_She didn't even know how she ended up here, sitting at the bar with a complete stranger, sipping at her third cocktail and talking about spending the night together. But could you really blame her? He was gorgeous as fuck, and she couldn't even remember the last time she got laid. Graham was babysitting Henry, and told her to go out and have some fun for a change. So fun she would have. For one night she would let herself forget that she was a responsible mother. Just for one night._

" _Just sex. One night," she clarified, taking another sip of her cocktail before she looked back at him. "No last names."_

" _Okay, that'll work just fine for me."_

" _Protection all the way."_

" _Of course," he said firmly. "That's a given."_

" _No kinky stuff."_

" _That's a pity," he told her, cocking his head to the side, his mouth tilting up into a lopsided smirk as he asked, "Safe word?"_

" _I just said no ..."_

" _No kink," he cut her off. "Got it. But what if you don't feel comfortable in a certain position, or don't want me to do something?"_

" _So you think your sexual stamina will last for more than one position?" she drawled, fluttering her eyelashes at him._

" _You have no idea, love." His husky promise shot a shiver down her spine, followed by a hard tug low in her stomach, and she actually had to bite her tongue to keep from letting out a moan. He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, "Let me show you how good my stamina is."_

_She only hesitated for a second. "Fudge cake."_

" _Pardon me?"_

" _My safe word," she replied, jumping down from the bar stool and taking his hand. "It's fudge cake."_

" _Jolly Roger," he said, and she turned around, raising one eyebrow in question. "My safe word."_

" _Seriously?"_

" _Aye." His smirk was warming her all over. She needed to get him behind a closed door very, very fast before they got arrested because she let him fuck her against the next wall._

" _You want me to call you captain in bed?" she teased as she pulled him out of the bar._

" _No need for that," he replied. "But if you want to call me Jesus or God a few times ... don't hold back, love."_

_She rolled her eyes as he winked at her, hoping it wasn't all empty promises, and she would have a night full of amazing sex instead of wishing he would just get it over with already._

_But it was only a one-night stand after all. Maybe she shouldn't get her hopes up so high. She was bound to be disappointed._

-/-

She hadn't been disappointed. It had been the best sex of her life. She'd never let herself go like this before him, and definitely not after this night. There were no restraints, just pure pleasure. She'd fucked him and been fucked by him as if there was no tomorrow, knowing that she would never see him again.

And now he was her subordinate. She was his _boss_. And somehow she needed to find a way to forget all about this night. To only look at him as one of her detectives, and erase the fact out of her brain that he'd been the best she'd ever had.

-/-

His freaking boss was Emma? He still couldn't believe it, still hoped that every second someone would jump out from around the corner and yell 'Gotcha!'. But of course no one did.

He somehow made it through the day, almost on autopilot, letting out a deep sigh when the door of his apartment finally closed behind him. He needed a scotch. At least three fingers of.

Seconds later he was on his couch with a tumbler in his hands, and the bottle of scotch on the table in front of him. He was pretty sure one glass wasn't enough today.

Emma.

He hadn't thought about her in years, but seeing her today ... he'd met her when everything in his life was still okay, before they'd diagnosed Liam with lung cancer, and he had to watch his brother wilt away in the matter of months.

The pain slashed through his heart again, making it hard for him to breathe. Even after all this time he missed his brother desperately. Liam had been the only one who knew about Emma, and he just wished Liam could sit beside him right now, and make jokes about the fact that Killian had slept with his new boss, teasing him mercilessly about how awkward it would be – to work under her.

God, he missed him so much.

"Bloody hell, brother," he cursed under his breath, lifting the tumbler to his mouth and emptying it, welcoming the harsh burn of the alcohol down his throat. "Why did you have to leave me alone?"

Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, feeling tears burn under his closed eyelids, and he gulped hard, forcing his thoughts away from the brother he missed so much and back to Emma.

Emma ... the woman who'd turned his world upside down for one amazing night.

-/-

_God, she was amazing._

_His hands gripped her hips tighter as she rode him. Reverse cowboy style. And God, seeing his cock slipping in and out of her wet sheath, feeling how hot she was, even through the condom, almost drove him insane._

" _God!" he cried, rutting his hips upwards, burying himself until the hilt inside of her as his orgasm ripped through him._

" _Where were we?" she asked, draping herself over him. He hadn't even realized that she'd moved. "Third time?"_

" _I can't even remember," he mumbled, his arm coming around her and pulling her closer. "You broke me."_

" _Not so cocky anymore?" she teased, and he didn't even need to open his eyes to know that her mouth was probably tilted up in a huge grin._

" _Have mercy with my better parts," he replied. "They need a break."_

" _You sure you're gonna be able to go another round tonight?"_

" _Just give me a few minutes."_

_He might have needed a break, or more accurately his cock, but that didn't mean she_ _would get a break. He pushed her on her back, and settled between her legs, ignoring her squirming as he trailed a path of kisses up her thigh until his nose brushed against her core._

_She hadn't said her safe word yet which meant she would let him lick her out. He wanted to taste her so bad, and being so close made his cock actually jerk back to life. Not that he'd thought that was possible. At least not that fast. But her smell was like an aphrodisiac, and he growled low in his throat as he buried his face in her folds, plunging his tongue inside of her._

" _Where were we?" he asked after he'd fucked her with his tongue and fingers until she'd been a quivering mess, and screamed his name when she'd climaxed hard around his fingers while his tongue had worked her clit without mercy. Tilting his head, he leaned his cheek against her thigh, and looked up at her. "Fifth time?"_

" _Smug bastard," she murmured, lifting the arm she'd thrown over her eyes to glare down at him._

" _Ready for another round?" he asked, and her eyes dropped to his midsection as he kneeled between her widespread legs._

" _I wanted to say ready when you are but ..." she trailed off and licked her lips, her mouth curling up into a lopsided smirk when his cock twitched under her scrutiny. "I can see for myself how ready you are."_

_He couldn't keep the cocky grin from his face as he reached between her legs again and slipped two fingers into her still soaking wet sheath. She flinched as he curled his fingers to reach the spot deep inside of her, and he paused, his fingers still buried completely inside of her._

" _You sore, love?" he asked._

" _Yes," she whispered, her hips arching from the mattress when he slid his fingers out of her. He only let the tips tease her entrance, his thumb brushing over her clit, and she whimpered, bucking her hips against his hand. "Don't stop."_

" _As you wish."_

_He brought her to another orgasm before he flipped her onto her stomach, and pulled her up on her hand and knees, entering her from behind while her walls were still fluttering. He almost lost it right then and there, gritting his teeth as he held still inside of her for a few seconds until the flutters ceased._

_He almost converted into a raging animal as she clenched her walls around him and begged him to move. He fucked her so hard that he feared she would be more than sore tomorrow morning, but he didn't care and neither did she. They fucked until they were drenched in sweat, both their bodies trembling with exertion as they crashed down on the mattress._

_His heart was pounding like a sledgehammer in his chest as he gulped in air, trying to get his racing heart under control again. He was completely spent and sated, every muscle in his body aching. Even his cock hurt._

_He closed his eyes, and just laid there, unable to move. He didn't think he could ever get up again._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The door slammed against the wall, they both jerked and swirled around to look at the intruder. He lifted the gun and pulled the trigger, the sound of the shot ringing through the air, and Milah slumping back onto the bed. There was blood everywhere. Everything red. And then an excruciating pain ripped through him, his head slamming against the headboard, bright lights flickering over his eyes, and then absolute darkness.

He jerked upright, his heart hammering in his chest, his throat sore from screaming and he balled his hands into fists atop the sheet, pressing his eyes shut as he struggled to come out of the nightmare.

It was always the same. He was always reliving the night Milah was shot. In every vivid detail. And like always the guilt was eating him alive. It was his fault that she was dead. If he hadn't started sleeping with her, this all might have never happened. She might be still alive. The only thing he could do right now was finding Gold, and making him pay for what he did.

He would find him. If it was the last thing he did. He would find him.

-/-

He'd imagined Emma being his boss would be more awkward, but he hardly saw her. He was immediately thrown into work, caught his first homicide a few minutes after he stepped into his office, and it took them over a week to solve it. A week without hardly any sleep, and with too much coffee.

And it had almost ended in a catastrophe.

Robin had been shot. Fortunately it had been only a flesh wound. But seeing Robin's shirt turn red with blood had rattled Killian, and it had taken him a few seconds before he'd snapped out of it and kneeled beside his partner to put pressure on the wound.

That had been hours ago, and he was bone tired now. Between rushing to the ER, waiting for the surgeons to tell him that Robin would be okay, making an official statement, and needing to interrogate the suspect and getting a confession out of him – he was running on his last fuels, and he should probably get home and catch up on some sleep.

But the adrenaline was still running high through his body, despite the tiredness that was pulling at every muscle in his body, and he'd decided to get most of the paperwork done before going home.

He wrinkled his nose as he pulled at his shirt, realizing that Robin's blood was splattered all over it. He hadn't even realized it, too absorbed in getting the culprit behind bars. But he should probably change it now, before he would take the subway and scare the living hell out of people.

Pulling it over his head, he crumpled the blood-stained shirt in his hand, and threw it into the corner. Opening his bottom drawer, he drew out a new one, seeing his hand shaking as he reached for it. He gulped hard as he straightened himself, his body trembling with the effort to keep himself from flashing back to the night Milah was shot.

"Jones, you should ..."

He looked up when he heard Emma's voice, and the moment he met her gaze he was thrown back to another night. She wasn't able to hide behind a mask right now, all her emotions were clearly written all over her face, and what he saw in her features made his cock hardening in a blink of an eye. He remembered that look on her face. She'd looked at him like that before. Moments before she'd jumped him. He couldn't keep his body from reacting, even if he tried. Every fiber in his body wanted to haul her into his arms and kiss her, throw her on his desk and bury himself in her, and fuck her until she screamed for mercy.

They stood there frozen for what seemed like minutes, but probably were only seconds, before she snapped out of it, and cleared her throat.

"You should go home, Detective Jones," she said with a surprisingly composed voice. "It was a long day."

She was out of his office before he could say anything in return, and he followed her with his eyes through the bull pen, sighing softly when the elevator doors closed behind her.

"After I got my boner in check," he grumbled, reaching down to adjust his pants.

Throwing a look at the files on his desk, he realized that he wouldn't get any work done today anymore, not with images of Emma's naked body flitting through his brain, and with a sigh he decided to hit the gym to get some of the tension out of his body.

-/-

"Mommy?" Henry cried, his hands reaching for her. "Mommy, help me! Help me!"

She jerked up in bed, her breath coming out in erratic pants, her heart galloping in her chest, and it took her a few seconds until she realized where she was. Shoving the sheets away, she stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen, almost knocking a glass over as she poured herself some water. Her hands were still shaking as she wrapped her fingers around the glass, her mind still reeling with the crude images of her nightmare.

She shouldn't have drunk a whole bottle of wine last night, she knew too much alcohol made the nightmares worse, but seeing Killian Jones shirtless had made her remember the night she'd spent with him in very vivid details, and she'd needed the alcohol to dull the images and keep her from doing something stupid - like calling him.

Her eyes flickered to her phone lying on the kitchen table, and her fingers twitched to reach for it. She had a hard time dealing with her attraction for him. A really hard time. Not even limiting their contact to the absolute minimum really helped.

She remembered how good he was in bed, remembered how he managed to make her forget everything around her, remembered how she could be herself with him without even knowing him. The temptation pulled at her from every angle, and seeing him every day was making it damn hard not to give in.

Maybe she was so susceptible to his charm because she was her last good memory of a better time. Or maybe it was just plain, old lust. He was a gorgeous human being, and she knew he didn't only look good, but was also a rocket in bed.

Was it so wrong to wish for one night of solitude? For one night of passionate sex without thinking about everything she'd lost? One night without the memories that tortured her soul?

She pressed her hands hard against the counter, and closed her eyes. But all she could see was pictures of Henry's and Graham's autopsy reports flickering over her closed eyelids, and her whole body started to shake. The sobs rose up in her throat, and her legs gave out under her, her body slumping to the ground.

And then she broke, the sobs racking her body as she curled into a ball on the floor, pressing her hand into the cold ground until her knuckles turned white. She'd lost everything precious to her, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to live with that.


	5. Chapter 5

**I think we need a little breather, right? :-)**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

She had dark shadows under her eyes. He couldn't  _not_  notice them. But his reaction towards seeing her like this was what was surprising him. He felt the almost unbearable urge to pull her into his arms and hug her close, to tell her it would be alright.

He knew there were things that would never be alright again though, and looking at her told him that her shoulders were weighted down by burdens no one could help her carrying. Loss. She had definitely lost someone. Maybe it was because he knew that pain in her eyes, saw it way too often in his own when he was looking at his reflection.

"Graham … Detective Humbert was her friend." Killian startled when he heard Robin's voice. He hadn't noticed the other detective coming up to him. He probably shouldn't have watched their captain that intensely, but he'd been lost in thoughts.

"The detective that died in the car accident?" he asked, shifting so that he wasn't tempted anymore to watch Emma through the glass.

"Aye," Robin replied, his eyes turning sad as his gaze swept towards Emma's office. Apparently she wasn't the only one who had lost a friend. "They were close."

A jolt of jealousy rushed through him, and he chastised himself for even feeling it. He had no right to feel possessive. There was nothing between Emma and him. Absolutely nothing. But still ...

"How close?" He couldn't keep himself from asking, and cringed inwardly a second later. This was definitely none of his business. "Sorry, mate. I shouldn't have asked."

"They were just friends," Robin told him, apparently thinking he should know. "Since the academy. He was the only one who could help her back when … when she lost her son."

"What happened?"

"That's her story to tell, Jones," Robins said, his expression turning even more serious when he met Killian's eyes. "I just want to warn you. She is my friend too. So don't hurt her. She's been through too much already."

Killian stared into space a few moments after Robin had left him, his heart going out to Emma. He knew what loss meant, how deep it could cut. But losing a child … he shifted again, his eyes searching for her behind the glass wall of her office.

He would never hurt her. Never.

-/-

He was grateful for the hectic days. He hadn't had time for a real breather since the day he started here. It made it easier for him to push all his guilt back into a corner, and concentrate on work. Some days he was even able to make himself forget that the woman he couldn't stop thinking about at night had her office only two doors down from his.

"So how about we send someone in undercover?" Robin said. "Jones, you dance?"

"Me?" Killian asked startled, looking up from the file he was holding in his hands. "Yeah, I can dance."

"Great. Now we only need to find you a woman who can accompany you to the gala."

"I will go with him."

He swirled around as he heard her voice, the file almost slipping out of his hands as he stared at her open-mouthed, needing a few seconds before he recovered from the surprise.

"Yeah, right." He chuckled, because clearly it must be a joke. She was the captain. She was too high up the food chain to lower herself to some random undercover work. But when he looked around no one was laughing, and when his gaze came back to her she just raised her eyebrow at him.

"Be ready at eight, Detective Jones. The limo will pick you up then." She didn't wait for an answer, already back on the way to her office. When she reached her door she turned around again, a small smile tucking at the corner of her mouth as she said, "Oh, and I hope you have a tux."

-/-

Of course he had a tux, and it actually still fit. So he was ready to go at sharp eight, wondering if she would be in the limo with him or not. She'd sent him all the info he needed for tonight two hours earlier, and he had memorized everything he needed about his undercover persona.

She awaited him in the limo when he entered, her perfume lingering in the confined space, making him too aware of her presence, and he sent a silent thank you up to heaven that she'd decided to wear a coat that was covering her from head to toe. Because he was not ready to see her dress yet. He was already fighting with the unwanted arousal her sight elicited in him, and he'd only seen her face so far. But her complicated hairstyle, her smoky make-up, and the glittering earrings hanging down from her ears were already getting him into enough trouble as it was, and he was grateful when she started to go over the operation with him again, pulling him away from his lewd thoughts.

He had himself under control again when they reached the hotel in which the gala was held, and he let his hand slip to the small of her back as he stepped with her into the foyer, following the signs to the coatroom.

"You cut quite the figure, Mr. Jones."

She threw him a cocky glance over her shoulder as she loosened the belt of her coat, and the breath was actually knocked out of his lungs as her coat slipped from her shoulders and her back was revealed to him.

_Bloody hell!_

Almost her whole back was bare to his gaze, her dress bunching in lazy folds at the side, dipping low so that you wished it would just dip this little bit lower, and give you a glimpse of the curves of her ass.

He was ogling her, he knew that. But it took him a few seconds until his brain was functioning properly again, and he could give the coat to the woman behind the counter, taking the slip she handed him with slightly trembling fingers. He was steeling himself to face Emma again, his fingers closing over the slip, and he gave himself a few more – much needed - seconds to compose himself as he slipped it into his pocket.

Forcing his lips into a smile, he turned around, his smile nearly faltering as he saw her dress. A shimmering dream in red and gold that hugged her every curve, a low neckline giving him a teasing glimpse of the swell of her breasts, and he asked himself how he was supposed to survive this evening.

"Ready?" she asked, putting her hand on his arm and leaning closer.

Her breast was brushing against his arm with the movement, and he was tempted to just grip her, and pull her into the next room, and kiss the living daylights out of her. But somehow he managed to reel the raging lust in, and answer her with a steady voice, "Aye, I'm ready."

-/-

She knew this was a bad idea, the moment she told everyone she would accompany him to the gala. But it had just slipped out, and she definitely needed a distraction. She didn't want to go back to her empty apartment and be attacked by her demons again the moment she stepped over the threshold. Just for a few hours she wanted to not be chased by the memories.

And she had done it before. This kind of undercover work. Playing the trophy wife, being the woman on some rich man's arm who was only supposed to dazzle with her beauty and not her wits. Of course, technically, Killian was too young and way too attractive to be her sugar daddy, but being a famous soccer player over on the island worked too. No one in these circles knew anything about sports, especially not soccer.

But fawning over him all the time meant that she had to be close to him. Very close. And feeling his body heat so close to her, smelling his cologne every time he moved, feeling his fingers brush over her skin, made it hard for her to remember that this was not a date. That this was work.

But she was dancing with him, and God damn it - he could dance. And his fingers were at the small of her back again, and no … she did not want him to slide his hand under the fabric and grab her ass. She did not.

They were only here to observe, no actions whatsoever involved, and she was grateful for that small favor, since her hands were actually shaking when the dance ended and she reached for a champagne flute a waiter carried right by her.

"Easy, Swan."

His low voice felt like a caress, and she bit her tongue and closed her eyes for a moment when he shifted behind her, and another wave of cologne hit her nostrils, shooting liquid heat right down to her center.

"Appearances, Jones," she replied and turned around. Wrapping her arm around his neck, she raked her fingernails over his neck, reveling in the narrowing of his eyes as she pressed her body against his. "Need to keep up our appearances."

His arm snaked around her waist, his hand coming to rest at the small of her back – again! - the tip of his fingers dipping under the fabric of her dress, brushing over her ass. She shivered, leaning involuntarily closer, and his lips brushed her ear, his teeth closing around her ear lobe for a long second before he rasped, "As you wish, Captain."

_Fake, Swan. This is all fake._

She told herself that over and over again as they walked through the crowd, playing their parts. But his warm hand was still sitting dangerously low on her back, burning her skin, and she felt her nipple tighten whenever his hand shifted, her heart slamming into their throat every single time. She was such a fool. She actually wished his fingers would slip lower and caress her ass again.

_Pathetic, Swan. Just pathetic. You are on the job._

Somehow she made it through the evening, gathering all the intel they could get, and she let out a relieved sigh as she slipped into the rest room before meeting Killian at the coatroom.

She only needed to survive the limo ride to her apartment. Should only take about twenty minutes. It turned out twenty minutes felt like two hours, the tension-laden silence pressing on her throughout the whole ride. Her eyes were glued to the window, avoiding to look at him at all costs, and she almost jumped out of the car the moment the driver stopped at her curb.

When her apartment slammed shut behind her she leaned back against the wood, inhaling a deep breath. At least she'd achieved her goal. Spending the evening with him had kept the dark memories from surfacing again.

-/-

He almost didn't make it, the need to feel her skin against his palm again, to feel her lips moving under his – he almost wasn't able to not ravish her. He let out a relieved growl when they finally reached her apartment, and she left the limo with a hasty 'See you tomorrow' thrown over her shoulder, before the door clicked shut behind her.

"You're going to be the death of me, woman," he growled, his head falling back against the headrest, his eyes staying closed the whole way to his apartment.

It didn't matter that he stood under ice-cold water in the shower for a few minutes, he still couldn't stop thinking of her after he'd slipped under his sheets. He threw himself from side to side, contemplating if he should get up and watch something stupid on Netflix, but he knew that wouldn't help either, and with a groan he pushed the sheet aside and stumbled into the bathroom without switching on the light.

The room was still damp from his shower and he closed his eyes, pressing one hand on the sink, reaching with the other for his pants and pushing them down. His hand curled around his already rock hard cock, and he started to pump it hard, his head dipping back as he let himself drown in memories of Emma riding him, of her mouth closing around his cock and sucking him dry. He came with a shout, her name tumbling from his lips as he swayed forward, his hand still wrapped around his cock, his head hitting the mirror.

He was panting, his heart hammering in his chest, and images of Emma riding him, her breasts pale against the dark skin of his hands, were still assaulting his brain. He stumbled back into bed after cleaning himself up, and thankfully having spurted his release into the sink helped him to finally find sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

He intended to think about the problem - what he should do about his attraction to Emma - but when he came to work the other day he was informed that the boss was called away on some urgent business. He actually relaxed as he realized that trying to tackle  _that_  problem could wait a little while longer, and buried himself in work.

And then the day Emma came back and he had to finally face the problem – because the moment he saw her blonde hair through the window of her office he felt the arousal burning through him, telling him that the  _problem_  still existed – the arrival of the file he'd been waiting for made every thought of Emma vanish in a heartbeat.

He had to pull some strings, and technically regaining a copy of the file was definitely in the grey area – borderline illegal – but he held it in his hands now. Milah's case. His case. Everything they had about Gold.

He almost crumpled the brown carton in his grip as if he feared someone might snatch it out of his hands. There had to be a hint about Gold's whereabouts in there somewhere. He just had to find it. He'd worked with that man for months. He knew how he ticked.

He had to find him. He needed to make this bastard face justice for killing Milah.

-/-

She'd thought the tension-filled evening with Killian would provoke some awkwardness, but when she came back to the office after a week he'd barely noticed her, and at first she was slightly miffed about it, until she realized that it was probably better that way. Ignoring the attraction was making it easier for both of them.

But that didn't mean she wasn't seeing that something was bothering him, and after a few cautious inquiries she'd found out that he was spending his nights in the office, brooding over a file.

It wasn't hard to guess what the file contained, and she should have probably taken it away from him. He had no business having it. It was not his case. Not officially. He'd been the victim. But she also knew how desperate you could get when trying to find answers to questions you couldn't stop asking, and she decided to turn a blind eye on it.

But she couldn't look away any longer. He was sitting at his desk, his eyes flicking from paper to paper, weariness radiating in waves off him. She'd let him have his way until now, but seeing him bent over the file night after night, with his hair in complete disarray and his shirt half tucked out of his pants, she couldn't help feeling the urge to help him. And after all she was his boss. If she decided she wanted to help him she just should offer her assistance. He couldn't say more than no.

He startled when she knocked at the doorframe, looking haggard in the glow of his desk lamp.

"Do you need help?" She gestured towards the papers scattered over his desk. "A pair of fresh eyes?"

He looked up at her, confusion written all over his face, followed by hesitation. He leaned back in his seat, eyeing her for a minute, probably going through all the pros and cons in his head, but in the end he relaxed and nodded to the seat opposite of him.

"That would be great. Thank you."

It was complete impulse, not something she'd thought through beforehand. But somehow she wanted to share a little secret of hers with him, and the words just spilled out of her mouth. "But we have to do something first. Come on."

He cocked one eyebrow in question, but she didn't elaborate, waiting for him to stand up. Leading him to the break room first, she filled two to go cups with coffee and gave him one, still not saying anything when they walked to the stairs and climbed up.

"Where are we going, Captain Swan?" he asked, his accent making her rank sound obscene when he was saying it with that teasing note in his voice.

"To the roof, Detective Jones," she replied, addressing him as formally as he had but with the same teasing note on his rank, earning a soft chuckle from him.

He followed her outside without another question and she strolled over to the brink, leaning forward on the parapet, her eyes roaming over the city in front of her.

They were silent for quiet some time, sipping their coffees, Killian apparently waiting for her to tell him what they were doing up here. Closing her eyes for a few moments, she concentrated on the sounds of the city, listening to Killian's shuffling beside her. Her heart fluttered slightly in her chest as she opened her eyes. She'd never told anyone before about this, but it felt right to tell him, and she would not question her instincts; she never had.

"It helps me to clear my head," she said softly, seeing him turn his head out of the corner of her eye. "You know … when the case goes nowhere, when we are stuck … I come up here, and just look over the city, try to stop thinking about the case for a few minutes, let my thoughts wander to all the people out there, imagining what they are doing right about now. Cooking dinner, watching TV, going out for a drink."

"Resetting your brain?" he asked, and she chuckled, tilting her head to meet his eyes.

"Something like that," she replied, curling her fingers around the cup in her hand, shivering slightly as the wind brushed over the roof. She should probably have brought a jacket with her.

"I think it worked," Killian told her, pushing himself away from the parapet. "Back to work?"

"Yeah, let's get back to work."

-/-

They hadn't gotten anywhere yet with Gold's file but Emma had spent a few more nights with him pouring over the file, discussing theories, trying to find new leads and he'd realized that they worked very well together.

So when he found her one day in her office when everyone else had already gone home, pouring over a file of her own, he decided that he might return the favor and offer his help as well.

"Want me to take a look at it?" he asked, startling her out of her reverie, her gaze snapping up to him. "New perspective?"

He saw hesitation flicker over her eyes, her fingers splaying out over the papers in a protective move, her mouth tightening into a sharp line. Her reaction surprised him at first until his eyes fell on the name printed on the brown paper.

This was no ordinary case. It was the case file of her son, and she probably didn't want him to have a look at it.

"Sorry, I … I'm sorry … I didn't know ..."

"Yes," she said in a rush, cutting him off. "I would like that."

"Okay," he said softly, stepping closer. Seeing the rigidness in her posture, he stretched out his hand. "Roof first?"

Her posture relaxed, and a soft smile pulled her lips up as she reached for his hand and let him pull her up. "Yes, let's go up to the roof."

-/-

He was actually looking forward to the nights they were working together. Normally they were all business, just ordered take-out – most of the time Thai food since they both loved it - and discussed the files over egg rolls and dumplings.

But today something was different. He didn't know what it was, but he caught himself staring at her, his mouth curling up into a lopsided smirk when she tapped her pen against her mouth. She looked so young like this. Completely relaxed, sitting with her foot tucked under her thigh, her hair in a loose ponytail. Not to mention that she'd taken out her contact lenses tonight and was wearing simple glasses. He hadn't felt the tug of arousal in weeks, but tonight it was back, making him throw all caution to the wind.

"Swan?"

"Hmmm?"

He knew he should probably not mention it at all, but he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Not tonight. "Are you just going to pretend the night never happened?"

"What night?" she asked distractedly, her gaze sweeping over the paper in her hands.

"The night five years ago?"

Her head snapped up, her mouth falling open as she stared at him. He'd clearly taken her by surprise, and maybe it wasn't the gentlemanly way to go to just mention it like that, but he'd always wondered if she really remembered the night or if he'd just imagined her reaction towards him on his first day.

It took her a few more seconds before she had herself under control again and answered him quietly with a shrug of her shoulder, "Yes, I'm gonna keep pretending."

"So you  _do_  remember."

"Did you think you were so bad that I forgot about you?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Nope," he replied, wiggling his eyebrows at her. "So good that you had to forget about me to keep yourself from self-combusting."

"How humble," she shot back, but then she suddenly sobered up, her expression turning serious as she said, "I don't want to date anyone right now, and even if I might enjoy a little fling we can never have one. I'm your boss, Killian."

"I don't want a fling either, Emma," he replied, ignoring the voice in his head that was telling him that – under different circumstances – there might have been the possibility of something more between them.

"So we good?"

"Aye, we're good."

Because they were. He loved working with her. Loved these hours where it was only them, when they were working on the cases they both couldn't put to rest until they were solved. They might be attracted to each other, but their focus was solely on bringing justice to the people they loved, and putting the people who killed them behind bars where they belonged.

* * *

**In case you're wondering … I will give you more details about both their cases eventually. I just need to get to a few other things first before they'll solve them. :-)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites and follows. It makes me very happy that so many of you seem to like the story.**

**I hope you enjoy a certain roof scene in this chapter. I had that scene in my head right from the start. :-)**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

She was sitting in her car, staring at the gray wall in front of her. She dreaded these days, the days she went to the cemetery, the days she felt the need to be there.

She thought of her son every day. He was the first thought when she woke up, he was the last thought before she fell asleep. But visiting his grave … it always devastated her, made her feel raw, increased the pressure on her heart and soul. Those days were the days she struggled the most. The days she asked herself if it wouldn't be easier to just let go, to just end it all. But she never could muster up the courage to actually end her own life.

Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel, her lips thinning as she pressed them together, and she forced herself to take in some calming breaths. She suddenly heard Graham's voice in her head, telling her to not give up, telling her that there was always a reason to live, and a tear rolled down her cheek, her lips trembling as she remembered all the times her best friend had been by her side, keeping her upright.

A sound half sob, half chuckle escaped her as she imagined what he would say to her now. He had been always able to read her, and he would have seen the pull she felt towards Killian right from the start. She could almost hear his voice whispering 'I told you so' in her ear, a goofy grin on his face. He would have teased her mercilessly about the other man, would have told her to give it a chance, to give them a chance.

Graham would have seen how their relationship had changed over the last few weeks. How Killian became more than a man she found insanely attractive, more than her subordinate. He became a friend. A person she wanted to share her past with. A person she felt drawn to, and definitely not only sexually.

She remembered the conversation they'd had a week ago, when her eyes had fallen on the necklace slipping out from under his shirt. She'd recognized it from the photos in Gold's file, the photos Killian had also been in, his attire a far cry away from the clothes he was wearing now; his shirt open to an obscenely degree, the necklace hanging around his neck, glinting in the sunlight.

She'd asked him about it, saw his features closing up for a brief moment before he relaxed, telling her it was a reminder. A reminder to not forget, a reminder that Gold had to pay for what he did.

It hadn't been the first time she'd wondered if he had really loved the woman Gold killed, or if most of it had been only a front he'd put on, and his thirst of revenge was stemming from the huge guilt he must be feeling.

But of course she hadn't asked, felt as if it was not her place. But her fingers had twitched when his gaze had fallen on the file in front of him, his hand balled into a fist beside it. She'd wanted to touch him, wanted to soothe his sorrow, and it was that moment that she realized that she should probably consider to stop having these meetings with him. She was getting too close. Maybe it was time to step back.

But she hadn't put a stop to it. She couldn't. And when she stepped out of the car and walked to the entrance of the cemetery she wished Killian could be by her side right now, wished he could hold her hand, wished he could help her get through the day.

But of course he couldn't.

-/-

He never visited Liam's grave on the day he'd died. He just didn't believe he could visit it on this particular date without breaking down. So he visited him always a few weeks earlier. On the date when his brother and he had been happy the last time, before the diagnose shattered their lives.

His mouth curled up into a shaky smile when he remembered that day, let himself remember the fun they'd had back then. They'd gone to the race track. Something they hadn't done often. Maybe three to four times a year. But it'd always reduced them to little boys when they'd stepped into the go-carts.

His heart grew heavy as he remembered their laughs that day, remembered the joy on Liam's face when he'd crashed into his go-cart, and bumped Killian into the edge of the track. He could even still hear Liam's laughter in his ears.

His eyes were burning with unshed tears as he looked at the gray wall surrounding the cemetery, not knowing if he was able to go inside. His hands were trembling, and he balled them into fists atop his thighs.

Some days the pain was just too much, weighing on his heart, drowning it in sorrow, making him wonder what was the point of living anymore.

"God, brother. I wish you'd still be here." His voice broke on the last word, a tear slipping down his cheek.

He startled when he suddenly heard his brother's voice in his head as clear as if he was sitting right beside him.

_You're not alone, little brother. You never were._

A chortle slipped over his lips, a cold shiver running down his spine. "You're going insane, Jones," he mumbled, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose, trying to shake the eerie feeling of his brother's presence.

_You should make a move on the Swan lady, little brother. Would be good for you._

He let out a loud curse, reaching for the door handle and practically jumping out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

He leaned back against the car, rubbing his hands over his face. He didn't believe in ghosts. It'd probably been his subconscious trying to help him get through the pain, though he had to admit, Emma was constantly on his mind, and not only in a sexual manner anymore.

The nights they'd spent together did change their relationship, especially since the day she'd opened up to him – when he'd asked her if she could tell him about Henry. She'd only hesitated a brief moment before she'd gotten that far away look in her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she'd told him stories about her son.

When he'd asked her about Henry he hadn't thought it through, hadn't thought about what talking about her son would do to her. He just wanted to know. But when she got eerily quiet after finishing a particular funny story, he'd looked at her and had seen the furrow between her brows, the trembling of her lips as she'd tried to keep her composure.

He'd almost jumped up and pulled her into his arms, the apology had already hovered on his tongue, but she'd shaken herself out of it at that moment, and had told him with a firm voice that they should go home for the night.

He hadn't argued, but something had changed that night, and he still wasn't sure if the change was good or bad. Huffing out an annoyed breath over the way his thoughts had taken, he pushed himself away from the car and walked towards the entrance of the cemetery, but he only took a few steps before he turned around on his heels again and walked back to his car.

He couldn't go in there today. He just couldn't.

-/-

"Where is the boss?" Killian asked, frowning when he looked over to her office and didn't see her.

The Monday morning meeting was supposed to start in three minutes, and since he'd started here she'd never even come one second too late to these meetings.

"Roof," Robin said without further explanation, hacking into his keyboard.

"Aehm, don't we have a meeting in two minutes?" Killian asked, completely confused now, his eyes wandering to the window. The rain was splashing against the glass, and he wondered why the hell she decided to go up on the roof when it was pouring buckets.

"Damn, you don't know." Killian's head jerked back to Robin, the expression on Robin's face feeling like a fist just slammed into his stomach. Whatever he didn't know, it was bad.

"Don't know what?"

"There won't be a meeting today," Robin replied, his mouth thinning as he added softly, "Five years ago on this day Henry disappeared."

"Shit," Killian was out of the door and rushing up the stairs before he even realized what he was doing.

The door crashed against the wall as he sprinted on the roof, not even noticing that the rain was drenching him in seconds, his eyes searching the roof frantically.

She was standing at the parapet, her hands pressed against the concrete. She didn't move, ignoring the rain completely, her posture rigid, her head hanging down, her eyes closed.

He walked slowly towards her, contemplating how to make her aware of his presence without startling her. But somehow she sensed him, turning her head when he was only a feet away. Her eyes were bright red, screaming with pain and his heart clenched in his chest.

"God, Emma," he breathed, lifting his arms. He wanted to hug her, but didn't know if she wanted him to, so he stopped with his fingers inches away from her arms.

She stepped into his embrace a moment later, without hesitation, her body pressing hard against his, and he tightened his arms around her, wishing he could take the pain away from her, but knowing it wasn't possible, and his heart was breaking when she suddenly shoved him away as if he didn't want him to see how vulnerable she was right now. But before he could say anything, before he could assure her he would never take advantage of it, would never hurt her, her hands closed around the lapels of his shirt and she yanked him down, her lips clashing against his.

The kiss turned hungry instantly, her tongue darting into his mouth the moment he opened his lips, and they stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall, his fingers digging into the nape of her neck as he tilted her head to be able to kiss her more thoroughly.

God, he was burning. Their kiss turning him into a throbbing mess of raging lust, her hips rocking against his, making him groan into her mouth as her core rubbed against his rock hard erection.

And then she was suddenly gone, leaving him breathless and completely dazzled. His heart was pounding in his chest, his body screaming for her touch. But she was standing a few feet away from him, looking at him with an aghast expression on her face.

"I ..." She paused, gulping hard. The rain was drumming on their heads, but they couldn't move, staring at each other for seconds before Emma averted her gaze to the ground, and shook her head, her voice barely audible over the rain. "I don't know … I'm sorry. That shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry."

She turned around and fled from the roof, leaving him rooted to the spot, still trying to catch his breath as he stared at the door she'd just disappeared behind.

He wanted to follow her, wanted to kiss her until they both couldn't breathe anymore, wanted to feel her legs wrap around him, wanted to bury himself inside of her, wanted to make them both forget the world around them. He wanted to lie beside her afterwards, wanted to envelop her in his arms and breathe her in. He wanted to fall asleep with her in his arms, wanted to wake up to her hair tickling his chest. He wanted to give them a chance, wanted to see if they could make it work. He wanted her so much, his body and soul needed her with a desperation that made every fiber of his body ache.

But he didn't follow her.

Because the last time he let his heart dictate the course of his actions it had ended in a catastrophe, and he didn't think he would be able to survive it if he let himself fall, and would lose her too.


	8. Chapter 8

**First off ... thank you all so much for the continuous support. This story takes a lot out of me because it's so emotional, but it's also very rewarding when I see that I'm able to convey these emotions, and make you feel for Killian and Emma in this story.**

**Second … I started a poll to let my readers decide what story I should write as my hiatus fic. You find the poll on my profile over on FF.net. So go vote, and tell me what you want to read next.**

**Third … this chapter ends on a cliffhanger. Lalalalalala! :-)**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

What had she been thinking?

Emma stared at her reflection, biting her lip. Apparently she hadn't been thinking at all. She'd always struggled on this particular day, and somehow standing in the pouring rain outside had even made it worse.

And then he was suddenly there, looking at her with these too blue eyes that always saw more than she wanted them to see, with an expression on his face that shattered every last resolve she had left inside of her, and she had slipped into his embrace.

But of course that hadn't been enough. She'd needed more. Being enveloped by his arms had reminded her of the one night they'd shared, and the hole Henry's death had left behind had just hurt so much. She'd needed something, anything to make it hurt less.

And she had just kissed him.

A shudder went down her spine when she remembered how passionate the kiss had turned in a blink of an eye. She let out a groan, remembering rubbing against his erection, remembering the almost unbearable need to rip his clothes off, and just feel him bury himself until the hilt inside of her.

For this few seconds she felt alive again, hunger coursing through her veins. Hunger for him.

But then reality had crashed back down on her, and reminded her that what they were doing was wrong on so many levels. She couldn't use him like that. She considered him a friend, and she would not use his body to forget her pain. She would not.

She definitely couldn't bury her head in the sand now though, and act as if nothing happened. She might have buried the memories of their night together in the back of her brain, but she wouldn't be able to forget about the heated kiss they'd shared a few hours ago.

They needed to talk, and handle it like the two adults they were.

-/-

"Captain Swan?"

"Detective Reynolds," Emma replied surprised about seeing him here. He hardly came to the 15th precinct, and he wondered what had happened to make him show up here now. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She stepped into her office, furrowing her brows as she saw Reynolds close the door behind him, her gut throwing up warning signs when he turned around and she saw the grave expression on his face.

"We found him." She stumbled backwards, her ass hitting her desk and her hands clamping around the edge, her legs almost giving out under her. "We think we found Gold."

Her body relaxed before her brain caught up to what he'd just said. The Detective hadn't talked about Henry's kidnapper. She'd jumped to conclusions because she'd forgotten that she'd pulled some strings for Killian, strings that had apparently paid off.

"Where?" Emma asked, stretching out a hand for the file Reynold's was holding, glad that her hand wasn't shaking.

"Boston."

-/-

"Detective Jones? A word please?"

The flicker of defeat that appeared on his face before he schooled his features, told her that he thought she wanted to talk about last night with him. But to be honest the kiss had completely slipped her mind after Reynolds had told her they'd found Gold. She'd been too busy making calls, talking to the Boston PD, asking if they could come along for the ride, to even think about the fact that Killian and she definitely had to talk about the kiss at some point. But now was definitely not the time.

"Close the door, please."

"Emma, listen ..."

"We found him," she interrupted him. "We found Gold."

His expression changed to complete surprise for a brief moment, before his features hardened and he stepped closer, his eyes turning ice cold as he said, "Where?"

-/-

Killian looked out of the plane window, forcing himself to stay still and not tap his foot impatiently on the ground. Every nerve and muscle in his body was on high alert, ready to jump into action. The flight couldn't be over soon enough.

But on the outside he appeared cool, needed to stay calm. He knew Emma wasn't sure if she'd made the right call by letting him in on it, and he was grateful that she didn't order him to stay behind. But he still looked over at him from time to time, probably assessing if she could trust him to keep it together, or if she should pull him off.

He needed to be part of it. He just needed to, and Emma knew that. Knew how it felt to want justice. Knew it was the only reason he was on the plane. Because she knew him on a level he wasn't sure he was completely comfortably with.

Back in her office she'd pushed him into a chair, and sat down beside him, telling him in a calm voice everything there was to know. Her fingers had closed around his, squeezing his hand gently, her eyes burning into his, seeing too much, looking into the depths of his soul, and he'd almost looked away but couldn't, his fingers squeezing back, and then she'd just nodded and told him they were in this together.

-/-

"Killian?" Her voice penetrated the haze surrounding him. "Look at me!" He turned his head slowly, looking at her but not really seeing her, and then a sharp pain radiated from his forearm up his arm and he jerked, seeing her nails digging into his flesh, bringing him back from wherever he'd gone. Her voice was urgent, her green eyes searching his as she whispered, "If you're not up to this I'm gonna pull you off. Do you hear me? You shouldn't be here at all. But I know you need to be. So suck it up, and pull yourself together."

"Yes, boss," he replied, a genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He'd almost snapped, but she'd brought him back, and he was focused now. Focused on the the task ahead of them. He could do it. "I have everything under control."

"Good."

-/-

His hands were trembling violently, and he pressed them hard against the wall of the locker room. He was glad everyone had already gone home, and he was alone.

They'd found Gold where he was supposed to be, and taken him in without much resistance. Somehow the whole raid had gone so smoothly that Killian had been standing beside the police car only minutes later, making it all seem more like a dream than reality. Because it had just been too easy.

But catching Gold hadn't had the desired effect. Killian thought bringing him behind bars would lessen his guilt, would help him get closure. But when he'd listened to the interrogation behind the two-way mirror, he'd just felt empty. Gold had been raving nonsense, apparently he'd become a complete lunatic over the last few months, and Killian wondered if it was all an act. But he'd seen the eerie gleam in Gold's eyes, and something in his gut was telling him Gold didn't fake it. He really had gone mad, muttering something about being Rumpelstiltskin and needing to spin gold.

Pushing away from the wall, Killian peeled himself out of his clothes slowly, hoping a shower would ease the tension between his shoulders. But even when the water was pounding on his head and shoulders he couldn't relax. His hand balled into a fist and a moment later his knuckles connected with the tiles; but even the pain pounding in his hand didn't help.

He was feeling as if his body was too constricting, as if his insides wanted to spill out, as if his body might break open at any point. He pounded his fist into the tiles again, but the feeling didn't want to go away, and then her face flickered over his closed eyelids and he knew there was only one thing that could help him now.

Emma.

-/-

A glass of wine, and a long hot bath was just the thing she needed now. Rubbing a hand over the sore muscles in her neck, she let out a sigh. It had been a long day. A very long day. She was tired and worried. Worried about Killian. But he'd told her everything was alright and sent her home. She couldn't force him to talk to her. She just hoped that the fact that Gold was finally behind bars would ease his pain at least a little bit.

A knock at the door startled her, and her hand reached for the gun, her fingers closing around it before she walked slowly towards the door. It was one o'clock in the morning, and she hadn't a clue who could be at her door.

Leaning forward, she peered through the spy hole, her fingers relaxing as she saw the man standing outside her door.

Killian.

She threw the dead bolt open, and turned the lock, opening the door slowly. She hadn't realized that she was still holding her gun until his eyes flickered to her hand and back to her eyes, a smile playing over his lips. A smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Everything alright, Killian?" she asked softly, putting the gun down on the table beside the door.

She saw his jaw flex as he gritted his teeth, his hands balling into fists beside his body as he clearly fought for control, and when his eyes locked on hers she saw the pain reflected in his gaze, his voice hoarse as he spoke, "No. Nothing is alright."

A second later she was pushed back against the wall, and his mouth crashed down on hers.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

He set her body ablaze with his kiss, the hungry drag of his tongue against hers making it almost impossible for her to hold on to coherent thinking. But she had to, no matter how much her body craved to be filled by him.

"Killian?" she mumbled against his lips, but he pushed his hips into hers, darting his tongue back into her mouth. She knew the best way to make him stop would be to push him away completely, but she couldn't do it, so she just slipped her arms between their bodies, and cupped his face in her hands, pushing him back just that little bit so that their lips couldn't touch any longer. "Killian, this is not the answer."

He let out a shuddering breath, his fingers relaxing around her waist, and leaning his forehead against hers, he whispered, "I know, Emma." His hands tightened around her waist again. "But I need you." She didn't resist his pull, suppressing a moan as he pulled her hips forward, letting her feel how much he wanted her. "Please?"

"But we'll talk?" she asked, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks. "Afterwards?"

"Aye," he replied softly, and he leaned back, his eyes opened, the pain and need she saw in his gaze making her heart ache in her chest. "Afterwards."

And then he kissed her again. And she let him.

It'd been five years since she'd been with him, but she still remembered everything about it. Every single scar on his body, the way he made her feel when his fingers skimmed over her skin, touching her everywhere, eliciting a roaring fire inside of her.

Sometime between feverish kisses, they'd stumbled into her bedroom, their clothes shed on the way there, and he lowered her on the bed, settling between her thighs, his gaze so intense as he looked up at her, his mouth only inches away from the place she needed him most.

She opened her mouth to protest, but one look in his face and she knew it'd be futile. She remembered that too. This determination to make her come undone under his fingers and mouth before finally thrusting inside of her to soothe the ache he'd created between her legs.

She remembered those teasing licks that just fueled the lust, never giving her what she wanted the most. Remembered how he enjoyed playing with her, making her writhe under him with desperation, the need to come so overwhelming that she felt every fiber in her body vibrate, and then finally she felt his tongue against her clit, two long fingers pumping into her, pressing against the spot deep inside of her, and she careened over the edge, bucking against his mouth.

She felt him shifting, his body hovering over her, his cock nudging at her entrance. She hadn't even noticed when he'd donned a condom, still trying to come down from her high.

"God, I need you so much," he rasped into her ear, and then he was there, pushing her legs further apart, and sliding home with one hard thrust.

She knew he needed it to be hard and furious, and she needed it too. But he was a gentleman, and she felt the tremors rippling through his body as he tried to hold himself back, his movements atop of her too controlled for her liking.

She pulled his head down to her, her teeth digging into his ear lobe, making him jerk against her. "Fuck me harder, Killian. God, please fuck me harder."

His control snapped, his hands tightening around her legs and pushing them up against her chest, his body slamming against hers as he hammered into her. Every cell in her body was throbbing as he hit her as deep as he could get. She was shaking, needing to come again, and then he was suddenly gone, and she looked at him confused as he stepped out of bed. He didn't say anything, just grabbing her and pulling her to the edge.

"Turn around," he growled, and she complied immediately, her core clenching when she got up on her knees.

She felt him stepping behind her, and then he slammed back into her, making her gasp, his thrusts becoming almost punishing as he pounded into her. Her arms gave out under her as his fingers found her clit, and he rubbed over it hard, his cock plunging into her again and again, until she shattered into a million pieces, her walls clamping around him as she came and came and came, barely realizing when he didn't stop thrusting into her, joining her a few seconds later, his body crushing her into the mattress as he collapsed atop of her.

She couldn't move, only letting out a soft moan as he slipped out of her, and she heard him moving around, probably getting rid of the condom. Turning around slowly, she watched him, fearing he might flee now, before they had a chance to talk.

He stood in the middle of the room, facing the door, and she waited silently for him to decide what to do. Run or stay.

He decided to stay, his chest heaving with a deep breath as he turned around and walked back to the bed, laying down beside her and pulling her into his embrace. For one brief moment she was tempted to leave it at that, to be glad he didn't run away. But they'd crossed a line, and they couldn't go back now. She didn't want to go back now, but if they wanted to have a chance they needed to talk.

"Okay," she said softly, turning around in his arms to face him. "Talk."

-/-

He wanted to take her again, wanted to bury himself in her warm, wet sheath, and forget the world around them. But of course she wouldn't let him. He'd promised to talk afterwards, and he always held his promises. But he couldn't do it while she was lying in his arms, he couldn't look her in the eyes. The wounds still hurt so much, and if he had to reopen them to let her see deep inside of him, he needed to keep his distance.

He pulled back, standing up and walking to the window. Pressing his hands on the window sill, he stared out into the night, contemplating how to begin.

"I thought it'd be over. I thought it'd help to bring him to justice. And even though it does give me a feeling of closure … it still leaves me empty," he said, pressing his fingers harder against the window sill until his knuckles turned white. "I told you my brother died of cancer a few years ago, what I didn't tell you … the night we two spent together … it'd been the last time I was truly happy." She didn't say anything, let him get it all out in the open, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But he'd started, and he wouldn't stop before he'd told her everything. "Liam was diagnosed shortly after that, and … I think I'm still reeling with his loss, even after all this time." He heard her standing up, heard the pat of her feet on the wooden floor, and then her hand skimmed over his back, settling between his shoulder blades, and he relaxed, her nearness helping him to continue. "Milah … I think she was a distraction from the pain still lingering deep inside of me. I made myself believe I loved her, that I wanted to rescue her from Gold and spent my life with her. She'd paid with her life for trusting me to keep her safe. I failed her." Emma slipped under his arm then, her lips pressing a kiss against his chest, not saying anything, just lending him silent support, and he tightened his arm around her, crushing her against his side. "I was dead inside, something I didn't even realize until …" He let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes as he pressed his lips against her forehead, his voice barely above a whisper as he said, "Until I met you again."

He didn't give her the chance to say anything, opening up to her like that made him feel too vulnerable, and he swirled her around, lifting her up on the window sill, spreading her legs to step in between. He almost thrust into her, the tip of his cock already brushing through her wet folds as he realized he wasn't wearing any protection. He already wanted to draw back as her legs suddenly wrapped around his waist, keeping him in place.

"It's okay," she breathed, her fingers splaying out on his chest as she stared up at him. "It's safe, and I … I want to feel you."

He hesitated for a moment, searching her gaze. But she didn't waver, her eyes never leaving his, and he lowered his head, sealing her lips with his as he pulled her forward and slid into her. He almost came right then and there, feeling her hot, wet heat without any barrier between them was a feeling he'd never experienced before, and as he took her slowly he realized that this was the real deal.

This time he wasn't only trying to convince himself, his feelings for her weren't a result of him trying to bury the pain of losing Liam. She'd brought him back to life by only being there, and as he spent himself inside of her, her body convulsing around his, her arms and legs holding on to him as if she never wanted to let go of him, he felt with utmost clarity how much he loved her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

When she woke up the place beside her in bed was empty, and a sharp pain sliced through her heart. She knew she should have expected it. He'd bared his soul to her last night, and now he'd bolted.

It was understandable. But it still hurt.

"I'm still here." Her head swiveled around as she heard his voice, seeing him standing in the door with two cups of coffee in his hands. "Hope you don't mind that I rummaged around in your kitchen." His mouth curled up into a lopsided smile, and her heart thudded hard against her ribcage as he walked over to the bed, and sat down beside her. "I know how much you crave your caffeine in the morning."

He leaned forward then, brushing his lips over hers, and she felt sudden tears bricking the back of her eyes. God, damn it. She didn't know when it had happened, but suddenly she knew, without a doubt, that she'd gone and fallen in love with him.

"Thank you," she whispered, burying her face in the cup, fearing her feelings were written all over her face, and that he would only need to look at her once to know everything.

"Emma?" She looked up when she heard the gentle tone in his voice, and the expression in his eyes made her heart skip a beat. "I'm not running away from this. I can't. And I don't want to. The question is … what do  _you_  want?"

She could take the easy way out, she could tell him that she didn't know what she wanted. But his blue eyes were holding her gaze steadily, and she couldn't lie to him. Didn't want to.

"You," she breathed. "I just want you."

"You have me," he replied softly, taking the cup out of her hand and putting it on the nightstand, and when he looked at her again, the desire burned hot in his gaze. "God, Emma. I want you so much."

She didn't even have the time to worry about morning breath, or that the sun was already up, and he could see every inch of her in broad daylight. His passionate kiss pushed her into a whirlwind of lust and need, and she moaned into his mouth as his hand slipped between her legs, finding her already soaking wet for him, his fingers sliding easily inside.

"No, I ..." She shivered as he kept thrusting his fingers in and out of her while propped up on one elbow to watch her. It was unnerving, and it wasn't enough. She closed her fingers around his, stopping his movement. "Please, Killian. I want to come with you inside me."

His briefs hit the ground moments later, and he settled between her legs, his fingers curling around hers, pushing her hands into the pillow, his gaze never leaving hers as he slowly pushed inside of her, and her eyes fluttered shut.

"Don't!"

She snapped her eyes back open, staring up at him, her breath hitching in her throat when he buried himself until the hilt inside of her before he stopped. She felt him thick and hard inside of her, could swear she felt him pulsating against her walls.

His head lowered, his lips kissing her softly, and her hips bucked up from the mattress, urging him to move. But he just leaned back, his eyes shining bright as he shifted atop of her. Pulling out of her slowly, he stopped again when only his tip was teasing her entrance, and then he slipped back in, excruciatingly slow.

She felt the first tugs of her orgasm already, her heels digging into the mattress as she pushed upwards, wanted to draw him even deeper inside of her. His fingers loosened around hers, one arm coming around her waist and supporting her, holding her up in the air as he hit her deep with each powerful thrust.

"Say my name, love." His thumb pressed against her clit, a jolt snapping through her body as he started to flick it over the sensitive nub, pushing her higher and higher. "Say my name."

Her legs started to quiver, her fingers grasping the sheet, and his name spilled over her lips in a strangled shout as the climax hit her, her body arching into his as wave after wave crashed down on her.

-/-

"I already applied for a new position with intelligence."

She pushed away from him, leaning back until she could look up into his face. "You did?"

"Aye," he replied softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb ghosting over her cheek. "After our kiss on the rooftop. I knew it was just a matter of time until one of us would snap."

"Good," Emma told him, leaning into his touch.

"It might take a while though."

"Maybe we should take it slower from here on out?" Emma said, trying to be the voice of reason. "Until you're transferred?"

"Maybe we should." He pulled her forward, kissing her hard before he pushed himself up. Walking through the room, he collected his clothes, pulling them on slowly. He shot her a lazy grin when he buttoned up his shirt, coming over to her and leaning forward, pressing his lips against hers for a soft kiss. "See you later?"

"Yes," she murmured, skimming her fingers over his scruff, wondering how she should be able to play nonchalant while they were at work. She'd have a hard time keeping her hands off him. "See you later."

-/-

"You ready to go?"

His head popped into her office, and she couldn't keep the smile off her face as she saw him. It had been a crazy day, and she'd hardly seen him. This taking it slow was really taking a toll on her, and it'd only been fifteen hours since she'd been in bed with him.

"Yes, I'm ready," she replied, standing up from her chair and walking towards him. "Where are we going?"

"My place. I'm cooking."

She should have known taking it slow after only one night with him had been an insane idea, because the moment they were in his apartment behind closed doors, the tension crackled through the air, only climbing higher and higher with each passing minute, and when they settled on the couch after their dinner with a glass of wine, she felt as if she'd explode when she didn't feel him inside of her in the next minutes.

As if he could read her mind his arm snaked around her shoulders, pulling her into his body, and she tilted her head upwards, finding his mouth only inches away from hers.

"Didn't we want to take it slow?" Emma whispered against his lips, trying desperately to hold on to some semblance of sanity, but failing miserably when his grip tightened around her, his tongue flicking against her bottom lip. Her mind might be still struggling, but her body was taking over control, and she didn't really care.

"Slow is overrated," he replied, pulling her over his lap until she was straddling him, his erection pushing against her core. His hands started to wander, slipping under her shirt, and caressing her stomach, inching higher and higher, and she let out a sigh when his hand cupped her breast, his voice hoarse as he said, "Hold on."

She almost shrieked when he stood up with her in his arms, but she wrapped her legs around him instinctively, her fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she asked playfully, "Where are you taking me, Detective Jones?"

"Where you belong, Captain Swan."

Three orgasms later she was lying curled up against him, listening to his heart beat under her ear, and decided that he was right.

Slow was definitely overrated.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

He loved watching her sleep. She was so much more relaxed when she slept, and looking down at her now he wondered what might have gone different in his life if they'd have had more than one night back then. If they had stayed together.

Would he have fallen into as deep a hole after Liam's death if she'd been by his side through all of it? But more important … did she ever ask herself if her life might have gone differently if he'd been in her life? It was a question that kept floating through his brain. Would her son still be alive if they had been in a relationship?

He always tried to shake those questions the moment they jumped into his brain, because dwelling on the what if's never helped. He could just try to help her get her closure. He would do anything to find the man who'd kidnapped Henry and tortured him for days before he killed him. And in the darkest corner of his brain he knew he hoped the perpetrator would make a mistake when they finally found him, would threaten them in some way so that he'd give Killian a reason to kill him. Because this sick bastard didn't deserve to live any longer, and maybe killing him would get him off too easy, but Killian knew Emma couldn't really rest until it was really over. And it wouldn't be over until Henry's murderer was dead.

Them being still on the search for Henry's killer was one of the reasons he hadn't told her he loved her yet. He didn't think she was ready to hear the words yet. He was pretty certain she would bolt, that she couldn't let herself love anyone as long as she hadn't gotten justice for her son's death.

He didn't mind. He loved her, and he would give her all the time she needed.

He just wanted to slip back under the covers when his phone vibrated on the nightstand, and he grabbed it and walked out of the room before it woke up Emma.

Five minutes later he hung up, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He had the new job. He could already transfer on Monday, so today was his last day at the 15th. He couldn't wait to tell Emma. There was no reason now anymore to keep their relationship a secret, and he still grinned when he got back into bed with her, intending to kiss her awake to tell her the good news.

-/-

Somehow she'd managed to keep all her worries at bay over the last days, but watching him now - grinning and laughing with the rest of the department while they congratulated him on his new job - the worries, all her insecurities, came back with a vengeance. He'd been so happy when he told her the news this morning in bed, and she hadn't really had time to think about all of it until now, since he'd decided to celebrate the news by giving her two orgasms before they had to go to work.

But now everything came rushing back in, and she didn't think she was capable of real commitment, not after what happened to Henry. His loss almost broke her, and she was still having more bad days than good days. Letting someone else in, opening herself up again … she didn't think she could do it. She couldn't lose anyone else. First Henry, then Graham. She couldn't take anymore.

Maybe it was better if she stopped whatever they had right now, before they were both in too deep and couldn't turn away anymore, before she would lose him too. She might think she'd fallen in love with him, but it was better to lose him now when the pain wouldn't be as excruciating as when she completely lost her heart to him, and he left her then.

Yes, it would be better that way. Cut the ties, and let him loose.

She walked over to him then, forcing a smile on her face as she stepped in front of him and stretched her hand out. He looked at her strangely for a moment before taking her hand, and she was glad her voice didn't waver as she said, "Good luck on your new job, Detective Jones."

"Thank you, Captain Swan."

She saw the flicker of hurt crossing his eyes before she turned around and walked away. With each step the pain in her heart increased, but it would get better. It had to get better. She wouldn't see him at work every day anymore, and if she ignored his messages, he might give up getting in contact with her after a while. They had a few great days, but it was over now.

It was for the best.

-/-

"Don't do this."

He was standing in her kitchen - she'd completely forgotten that she gave him a key - and she wasn't sure if she was glad he was here or if she should tell him to leave.

"Do what?" she asked while she opened the fridge to pull out the bottle of Chardonnay she'd opened yesterday. She put it down on the counter, refusing to look at him.

"Push me away," he replied with a soft voice, stepping closer and leaning into her personal space. One of his fingers slipped under her chin and pulled it up, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Because I'm not going anywhere. I promised you we will find Henry's killer. And we will."

"I know, but ..."

"I'm not gonna push you, Emma," he told her, his thumb brushing over her cheek as he cupped her face. "Just let me help. Let me stay by your side, okay?"

She knew she should push him away, but when she looked into his eyes she couldn't do it. She needed him too much.

"Okay," she breathed, letting out a soft sigh when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

Maybe she wasn't able to love again, but deep down she knew if there was one man who could heal her heart it was the one whose arms were wrapped around her now, and a small flame of hope flickered into life in her heart.

Maybe he would stay at her side until she could love him enough to let him pull her out of the darkness and back into the light.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Loving someone can be painful, Liam." Killian crouched in front of Liam's gravestone, letting out a soft chuckle when he imagined what his brother would have to say to that one. He still felt the stab of pain in his heart every time he heard Liam's voice in his head, and emotion clocked his throat as he whispered. "I wish you could've met her, brother. You would have liked her."

He let his gaze sweep into the distance, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It wasn't that he had anything to complain about. Not really. He worked in Intelligence now for a little over two months, and Emma hadn't tried to push him away again once. They saw each other almost every day, going out on dates, spending time on her couch – just cuddling and watching TV. Their sex life was fantastic, but still … something wasn't quite right. He didn't know why exactly he felt that way. It wasn't as if he needed her to tell him she loved him. After all he hadn't told her either. But he knew she wasn't fully in the relationship, her heart wasn't fully into it, and some days knowing that almost broke his heart, some days he was just wondering if he would ever be able to reach her, if she'd ever be able to let the wound Henry's death left behind heal.

He'd spent almost all of his free time - when he wasn't with Emma - pouring over Henry's case file, because there had to be something they'd missed, something that would lead them to Henry's murderer. He just needed to find it.

-/-

Some days she wondered why he was still here, why he remained by her side. Being so steadfast, so loving without asking for much in return.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so happy, but still … there were those times when she got dragged down into absolute despair, when she had problems to breathe through the pain. She looked at the picture of Henry and her on the nightstand, her heart squeezing painfully in her chest. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't let go. She just couldn't let him in.

The words were floating through her mind quite often lately, her inner voice telling her that she loved him, more than she'd ever loved any man before. But still … she couldn't let herself feel it completely.

He told her he wanted to stay by her side, but sometimes she looked at him when he was not watching her – like right now when he was sprawled over her bed, fast asleep – and thought that it wasn't fair. That she should let him go, no matter what he'd said to her. But she was selfish. She couldn't push him away any longer. She needed him too much. She didn't know if she could go on if he would leave her, and she didn't want to find out if she'd be able to come back from that loss.

She needed to find a way to put Henry to rest, needed to find a way to start really living again.

-/-

Killian stood in the observation room, staring at the man sitting in the interrogation room. Reginald Cross.

Killian was convinced he'd kidnapped the boy they were searching for, and judging from his smug impression he'd done it before, and had never been caught.

There was something about him, something that was nagging at Killian. He opened the file again, looking at the picture of the missing child. He furrowed his brows, hoping that something would jump out to him, that he would realize what it was that was nagging at him. And then it suddenly hit him. The breath hitched in his throat, and he clenched his hands around the file.

_Oh my God!_

The kid … the kid had quite some similarities with Henry. The age, the facial structure, the color of his eyes.

And then Killian froze as the name of the man sitting in the interrogation room suddenly brought back another memory, a conversation he had with Emma a while back.

"Oh my God!"

He rushed out of the room and into his office, grabbing his phone and hammering at the keys, pressing the receiver to his ear, his knuckles turning white as he waited for someone to pick up on the other side.

"Carson, Detective Jones here. I have a question. Remember the Swan case?" he asked, his hand balling into a fist as he listened to the detective on the other end. "What was the name of the neighbor's son again?"

When he put the phone back down his hands were shaking, and he collapsed into the chair, staring blindly at the case file he'd dropped on his desk.

Could it be possible? Could he have found him after all this time?

He let out a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his face. He had to be sure. He had to dig deep, and do some detective work. Because he wouldn't tell Emma before he was sure that this was a solid lead. He didn't want to get her hopes up.

But if he was right … they would bring him down. He would make sure of it.

-/-

Emma stepped into the apartment, weary from a long day, and a smile pulled her mouth up as she saw Killian slumped on the couch. Yeah, she needed some cuddling time with him, one or two glasses of wine, and maybe some relaxing time in the bedroom later. But when he turned around and she saw his face, her heart plummeted into her stomach, all her detective instincts springing into high alert. Something happened.

"What is it?"

"We found him." Killian stood up and came towards her slowly, his face wearing a determined expression as he grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "I think we found him."


	13. Chapter 13

**This is the last chapter before the epilogue.**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Dark spots flitted over her eyes, and Emma realized that she was hyperventilating, but couldn't do anything about it. She slumped to the floor, her head hitting against the dresser as she tried desperately to get oxygen into her lungs.

"Easy, Swan." A soothing, lilting voice. Cool fingers brushing back her hair. "Easy." A paper bag was pressed into her hands, and he helped her bring it up to her mouth. "In and out. Just like that."

She breathed into the paper bag, relaxing slightly against him when her breathing slowed down. Her fingers were still slightly shaking when she pulled the bag away a few minutes later, and she squeezed the bag in her hands as she asked him softly, "You sure?"

"As sure as I can be."

-/-

They'd been forced to let Cross go after his first interrogation because they didn't have enough evidence back then, but they had now.

They'd gone over the evidence again and again, Emma wanting to make sure that they had enough evidence to really nail him. Determination was driving her. Determination and the fact that Killian didn't leave her side, made sure that she stayed hydrated and was eating.

They both had been let in on the case without any hesitation. Everyone knew of Killian and Emma's personal interest in this, and they gave Emma forty-eight hours to go over the evidence on her own. Most of them had been personally affected by cases before. They all knew what Emma needed.

She was pouring over the files the second evening when Killian put a cup of coffee in front of her, and she looked up at him, thanking him with a smile, her fingers closing around the warm cup as she went back to reading.

"So ..." He waited for her to look up at him before he continued, "You ready?"

She put the cup down slowly, brushing her fingers over the file one last time before she closed it.

"Yes, I'm ready."

-/-

Adrenaline was pounding through her veins, her finger tightening on the trigger. She wanted to kill him. She really wanted to kill him.

But then Killian stepped beside her, his presence calming her down, and she barked out, "Reginald Cross, you're under arrest."

Everything happened in a whirlwind after Emma's announcement. Reginald jumped behind a workbench and Emma's shot didn't hit him. Then Killian walked forward and the moment Cross' head appeared over the bench he pulled the trigger. Killian's first round hit him in the shoulder, but Cross pointed a gun at them, and Killian shot again, the next bullet being a direct heart shot and to be save he pulled the trigger one last time, the bullet hitting his target, and another red splotch appeared on Cross' white shirt.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion after that, Cross' body falling to the ground, the light going out of his eyes, the gun clattering out of his hand and onto the floor. For a few moments Killian just stared at his lifeless eyes before reality rushed back in, and he heard the shouts of the other cops around him. He loosened the death grip on his weapon, and swirled around, his eyes searching Emma's.

"You alright?" he asked softly, stepping forward to brush his hand against her arm.

Her eyes flickered to the dead body on the floor, her jaw tightening as she gulped hard. "I will be."

-/-

It took hours until everything was settled. All i's dotted and all t's crossed. It was a nightmare of paperwork you had to go through when you discharged your weapon, the paperwork even doubling when you was forced to kill someone.

Emma had gone home two hours ago, telling him that she just needed some space, and as much as he wanted to go with her, he knew she needed some time alone. Not to mention that he hadn't been free to go just then.

But he could go home now, and he opted for a quick shower before he would drive to her apartment with her favorite Thai food. He would not leave her alone tonight.

He just stepped out of the shower when his door bell rang, and he only wrapped a towel around his waist before rushing to the door and opening it.

"Wow, do you always open your door half naked?" Emma asked, leaning against the doorframe and looking him up and down, a bag dangling from her fingers, the scent of Thai food wafting towards him.

"Only if a gorgeous lass like you stands on the other side," Killian replied, his mouth curling up into a cocky grin.

"But you didn't know it was me," Emma shot back.

"I knew," he said softly, stepping aside to let her in. "I'm just gonna throw something on, and then we can eat."

He joined her in the living room a few minutes later, taking the offered carton in his hand and after gulping down some bites, he looked up and asked her, "You okay?"

"Shouldn't I ask you that?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow at him. "You were the one who had to shoot someone today."

"Emma, don't," Killian said with a firm voice.

"You're a pain in the ass sometimes," Emma huffed. "You know that, right?"

"Aye."

The soft smile that his answer elicited warmed his heart, and they continued eating, talking about anything else than the case. It was fine with Killian for the moment. He knew Emma well enough to know that she needed to get to it on her own time.

Meanwhile he was mulling the day over in his head. He didn't feel remorse. He had to shoot him, and Cross deserved it. Killian knew their legal system had its flaws, and maybe Cross would've gotten out a few years down the road. Killian wasn't a defender of the death penalty, but he also didn't believe people like Cross could be 'healed' in prison and come out as a 'changed' man. These psychopaths needed to be taken off the streets forever, and Cross had left him no choice other than to kill him, and Killian was glad that he'd killed him and not Emma. Emma would have always struggled with the question if she really had to kill him or if she killed him because she wanted revenge for Henry.

"I feel like I should be dancing," Emma's serious voice yanked him out of his thoughts, and he put the carton with chow mein aside, and leaned back to listen. "Like I should be celebrating that he is gone forever now, but … there are so many unanswered questions. So many parents out there who might never know what happened to their children."

"He had a journal," Killian said, knowing she needed to know about it, and he would never keep something this important from her, even if he thought it would be the right thing to do.

"What?" she asked, the chopsticks slipping out of her hand and dropping into the carton.

"It's all in there. Each and every one of his victims."

"Henry too?"

"Yes, Henry too."

"I need to see it."

"I know."

He pulled the carton out of her hand and put it on the table, drawing her into his arms, and she came willingly, snuggling against him.

"Killian?" Her soft voice reached his ears after a few minutes.

"Aye, love."

"I need you," she whispered, her fingers ghosting over his thigh up to his midsection, making it clear what she had in mind.

He didn't argue, after all he'd asked the same of her a few weeks back. Emma stood up and took off her clothes, smiling down at him when she was completely naked. "You're way behind, Detective Jones."

"Just give me a sec, Captain Swan."

He shimmied out of his sweat pants and shirt in record time, and he let out a grunt when Emma pushed him back down on the couch, straddling him, her breasts whipping enticingly in front of his face, practically inviting him to lave at them. And laving he did. Licking, sucking, biting until Emma was writhing atop of him. They both hissed when he finally slipped into her warm and slick heat, and she started to ride him ever so slowly.

Suddenly she pulled back, her hands coming to rest on his chest while he was only buried inside of her a few inches, and he met her gaze questioningly, but she just sent him a lopsided smirk and then she whispered, "I love you."

Her hips snapped forward and he slid back in, the breath whooshing out of him upon hearing the words, but before he could reply she was picking up the pace and all coherent thought tumbled out of his brain for a few moments as she rode him harder and harder. Faster and faster.

Wrapping his arms around her, he stood up half-way and turned them around so that he could lie her down on the couch, and take back some control. She tilted her hips towards him, drawing him even deeper into her welcoming body, and he slowed down, his fingers searching hers, entwining their hands.

Looking down at her, he took her with slow and deep thrusts, and her eyes never left his, her fingers digging into his skin every time he hit the spot deep inside of her. He felt her getting closer, but he didn't want her to fall just yet, so he slowed his thrusts again, slipping out of her and hovering at her entrance for a few seconds, his voice a hoarse whisper when he said the words he'd wanted to say to her for a very long time.

"I love you."

And then they didn't speak another word for a very long time, falling into an exhausted sleep hours later when they finally tumbled into bed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Epilogue**

"I will miss you every single day of my life, and I will probably never really forgive myself for not being there to protect you. But I have to let you go." She wiped away a tear that rolled down her face, burying her hands back into the pockets of her coat. "I will always love you, Henry. Always."

Emma blinked back more tears as she was staring down at Henry's grave stone, a small smile pulling at her lips as she thought of the way Killian had introduced her to Liam just a few minutes before, and how it had pulled at her heartstrings to hear his voice crack when he 'told' his big brother that she was the woman he loved more than anything in his life.

She really wished she could have met Liam, could tell him how much she loved his little brother, and that he would take care of him from now on. Maybe Liam could hear her. Somehow. She liked the thought of there being an afterlife of some kind, and she tilted her head to the sky and whispered, "If you can hear me, Liam. Would you take care of my little boy up there until it's time for me to join you?"

Of course she didn't get an answer, but her heart felt suddenly lighter, and maybe it was completely foolish to feel that way, but she could swear she heard a voice in her head, an accented 'Aye, I will' floating through her brain, and a shiver ran down her spine.

Chuckling softly, she shook the eerie feeling off, wondering when Killian would join her. He had gone to visit Milah's grave, and she knew he needed to make peace with Milah's fate on his own. But right now she wished he was beside her.

As if her wish had conjured him up she saw him walking towards her from the corner of her eye, stopping a few feet away from her in case she didn't want to be disturbed. But she wanted him beside her, so she stretched out her hand, closing her fingers around his as he stepped beside her and pulling him close.

"This is Killian, Henry," Emma said softly, leaning her head against Killian's shoulder, her fingers tightening around his. "He is gonna take care of me from now on. So you don't have to worry."

She felt Killian's lips brush over her forehead, his voice so soft that she could hardly make out the words. "Aye, lad. Your mother is safe with me. I'll protect her until my dying breath."

They kept standing in front of Henry's grave silently for a few more minutes, before the cold wind was forcing them to get back to the car. Killian was pulling her into his arms when they reached it, hugging her tightly, and she wrapped her arms around him, knowing they both needed to be close to the other right now.

Despite all the losses they had to endure in their lives, they were still here. Still alive. And finally – after years of grief and heartache – her heart was lighting up again. Because of the man standing in front of her. The man who healed her heart, and made her want to really live again.

"I love you, Detective Jones," she murmured against his chest.

"And I love you, Captain Swan," he whispered, his breath brushing over her hair.

Emma felt it deep in her bones, felt it sweep through her body – the knowledge that they were standing at the beginning of something beautiful, and she leaned back, standing up on her tiptoes to press her lips against his.

She had finally found happiness again, and she would hold on to it as long as she lived.

**The End**

* * *

**Thank you all so much for your support throughout this whole story. I know it was a little darker, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.**

**Until the next time!**


End file.
